


Sweet Release

by sunflowerseedsandscience



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerseedsandscience/pseuds/sunflowerseedsandscience
Summary: 100% smut biscuit, in response to leiascully's writing challenge prompt.





	

Rating: NC-17  
TImeline: Does it matter? No, it doesn’t.  
Summary: Know what we need tonight? A smut biscuit. Because @leiascully asked. Written in response to the XF Writing Challenge Prompt.

 

It’s a ritual with him.

The case is closed (as closed as it ever gets for them, at any rate), he’s been for a run, he’s showered, and now, he’s lying on the bed, naked, perusing the motel’s pay-per-view offerings, seeing if anything strikes his fancy. Tonight, he settles on a film of dubious cinematic quality that just happens to include his two favorite features: an office setting and, more importantly, a redheaded female star. 

He mutes the television- the woman’s voice isn’t necessary. He’ll be substituting a different voice, from memory, one he knows better than any other, though he’s never heard her say the things he’ll be imagining. By day, she’s more likely to use that incredibly sexy voice to argue with him than anything else... but at night, in the privacy of his motel room and of his fantasy, she says things that make him crazy, things that would probably drive him straight to orgasm without a single touch, were she ever to say them in real life.

On the screen, a man is bending the redheaded woman over a desk, and Mulder moans, stroking his cock languidly, imagining, as he has countless times before, what it would be like to do this with the redhead lying in bed right next door. He’s spent years watching her from across their office, picturing what Scully would look like splayed out over his desk as he mounted her from behind, sending papers and pencils and coffee spilling to the floor. 

The man has moved to a desk chair, and the woman is straddling him, riding him enthusiastically. Mulder picks up the pace, panting softly as he chases his release. He closes his eyes, breathing harder, and in the privacy of his motel room, he allows himself the indulgence of her name. Softly.

“Scully....” He tips his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh Scully....”

“I don’t know, Mulder. She’s got the hair, but if that’s what you’re expecting when I take off my shirt, you’re gonna be pretty disappointed.” Mulder jerks upright with a startled yelp, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and turning to the connecting door, which stands open. Scully is leaning casually against the doorframe. He grabs a pillow from behind himself and clutches it across his lap.

“Scully, I- I’m sorry, I-” With the hand not holding the pillow, he scrambles for the remote and points it at the TV, turning it off as quickly as possible.

“Will they charge you for the whole thing, do you think?” Scully asks. “If you just watched the first few minutes?” She’s grinning at him, and it finally sinks in that she’s not angry. She’s caught him moaning her name while he touches himself, and she’s not angry. Does he dare to hope? “You left the connecting door open,” she continues, “and I thought I’d ask if you wanted to grab a late dinner. I like your idea better, though.”

“Do...” He swallows hard. “Do you?” She nods.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “But I’m just wondering....” She licks her lips, and his cock twitches in response like it always does. “How attached were you to the idea of going solo?” 

“Not attached. Not attached at all.” He feels like maybe he should move the pillow off of his lap, but he can’t move. Hell, he can barely manage coherent sentences. “I just didn’t know I had any other option.” Scully smiles coyly.

“Didn’t you?” She finally pushes off the doorframe and begins to cross the room towards him, unbuttoning her shirt as she goes. She stops in front of him, slowly opening the sides of her blouse to reveal a blue lace bra. She steps forward, standing between his knees, and places her hands on his shoulders. His own hands land at her waist, his thumbs stroking the smooth skin of her hips as she shrugs out of her shirt.

“You’re wrong,” he says hoarsely. Scully frowns, not understanding him. “Not disappointed. Not at all.” He nudges at her cleavage with the tip of his nose, and she gasps. “About as far from ‘disappointed’ as it’s possible to get.” He skims the sides of her waist, feeling goosebumps rise under his fingers as they climb up her back and unhook her bra, sending it fluttering to the floor. He buries his face in her breasts, kissing them, taking one perfect pink nipple in his lips, sucking, nibbling, running his tongue in tight circles around the tip. He switches to the other, giving it the same attention, but he doesn’t touch with his hands, which are busy at her waist, digging in the side of her skirt until he finds the closure, releasing the buttons and zipper. She twitches her hips neatly, and the skirt falls to the floor. Her legs are bare underneath- as long as he’s known her, the pantyhose have always been the first thing to go the moment they’re back in their rooms for the night- and her panties are the same lacy blue as her bra. He slides his thumbs into the waistband, and at the same time, she reaches between them and pulls the pillow away from his lap.

“If I’m going to be naked,” she says, tossing the pillow aside, “then so are you.” He’s not complaining, not if it means he’s going to be allowed to continue sliding her underwear down her smooth, toned legs. She steps out of her panties, and before he can do anything else, she takes him by his hand and pulls him to his feet. “What was it they were doing on your movie?” Scully asks. “When I came in?” She leads him across the room, to the table and chairs by the window, and pushes him to sit down. She straddles him almost casually, the nonchalance of her motions in direct counterpoint to the pounding of his heart. He holds her hip with one hand; with the other, he offers himself to her, helping her position herself at just the right point, just the right angle. Her legs aren’t quite long enough to reach the floor- this is something that never occurred to him in his fantasies- but the chair legs have rungs between them, and she’s able to find purchase and lift herself to hover over him.

He wants to look her in the eyes as he enters her, but the landscape of his lap is simply too enticing to tear his eyes away from right now. The sight of her sinking down slowly onto his cock is the single most erotic thing he’s ever seen in his life, far and away more carnal and sensual than anything he could ever hope to find on a motel television. She swallows his moans as she kisses him, finally, and bracing herself on his shoulders, she begins to move, riding him with a slow, steady rhythm, rotating her hips every few strokes, driving him absolutely wild. 

Scully kisses along his jaw, around his neck, and takes his earlobe delicately between her teeth, flicking it with her tongue. At the same time she slides one hand off of his shoulder, down his chest and abdomen, settling finally between them, taking up a circular rhythm around her clit. He desperately wants to watch- Scully touching herself is pretty high up on his list of favorite fantasies- but he only lasts about five seconds before he has to look away. It’s just too much all at once- the feel of her tight, wet heat gripping him, the smell of her, her mouth on his neck, the sound of their bodies meeting each time she slams down onto him- and if he keeps looking, he’s going to come, and she’s not quite there yet.

She’s getting there, though; he can tell. She sits up straighter, pushing up with the hand still on his shoulders, the fingers around her clit moving faster, shifting to more direct stimulation (as least, he thinks that’s what she’s doing; he still can’t watch without risking instant orgasm). His hands leave her waist and travel higher, caressing her breasts, his fingers circling her nipples.

“Pinch them,” she whispers, and he obliges gladly, rolling them between his fingers. “ _Harder_.” He squeezes a little tighter, and tighter still, until finally her head drops back and she moans, the hand at her clit moving so hard and fast now that he can’t help but watch. He shoves up into her harder, meeting her thrusts, and suddenly she’s coming, the walls of her pussy gripping his cock in waves. She throws her head back, gasping and crying out, and he leans forward and presses his lips to the graceful white arch of her neck, slowing the movement of his hips as she rides out her orgasm.

When she looks back down at him, her face is flushed and glowing with sweat. Her perfect red mouth hangs open and he kisses it, thrusting his tongue inside. She buries her fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp with her nails, and he knows his release is close. He pulls back. “Stand up,” he says, his voice low but commanding. She obeys immediately, and he turns her around to face the little table where they ate dinner last night. It’s not a desk, but it’s a flat surface, and it’ll do for now. He’s not going to need it for long, anyway.

Mulder bends Scully over the table, taking a moment to be grateful that she’s just tall enough to keep her feet on the floor. He enters her from behind in a single strong thrust, his moans mingling with hers, and without pausing, he begins to slam into her frantically, no rhythm at all, and within seconds he’s coming, gripping her waist hard enough to leave bruises, bellowing her name, shuddering as he empties himself into her.

Mulder collapses forward onto Scully’s back, mindful of the severely unbalanced table, well aware that spilling both of them ungracefully onto the dirty motel carpet would kill the mood rather effectively. Maneuvering carefully, he stands up, keeping her flush against him with a hand at her stomach, and sinks back onto the chair they vacated a moment ago. Scully sinks back against him, resting her back on his stomach and her head on his shoulder.

“So was that as good as your movies?” she asks him, and he laughs.

“Better, Scully, so much better.” He presses his face into her hair and wraps his arms around her. “In fact, I think tonight’s a really bad time to own stock in motel room pay-per-view stations.”

“Oh?” She turns her head to look at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because after tonight, I think they’ve permanently lost their best customer.”


End file.
